“Good! I will play myself.” With great dignity, Mrs. Van Reypen rose and walked to the piano.
Patty adjusted the music-stool for her, and she ran her delicate old fingers lightly over the keys.
“I’m sadly out of practice,” she said, “but I can play a tinkling minuet and you may dance to it.”
She began a melodious little air, and Patty, after listening a moment, nodded her head, and ran to take her place.
Mrs. Van Reypen was so seated at the piano that she could watch Patty’s dance, and in a moment the two were in harmony, and Patty was gliding and bowing in a charming minuet, while Mrs. Van Reypen played in perfect sympathy.
The dance was nearly over when Patty discovered the smiling face of Mr. Philip Van Reypen in the doorway.
His aunt could not see him, and Patty saw only his reflection in the mirror. He gave her a pleading glance, and put his finger on his lip, entreating her silence.
So she went on, without seeming to see him. But she wondered what his aunt would say after the dance was over.
Indeed, the funny side of the situation struck her so forcibly that she unconsciously smiled broadly at her own thoughts.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Van Reypen, as the dancing and music both came to an end; “I am glad to see you smile as you dance. I have seen some dancers who look positively agonised as they do difficult steps.”